Anderson’s Even Keel Is Anchor for Angels

One bright spring morning he appears, as quickly and oddly as a desert chill, sitting calmly in front of his locker, October’s mystery hero, alone, in full view, finally.

His name is Garret Anderson, and now’s your chance.

You want to scream at him for not hustling.

“Not hustling?” Tim Salmon asks. “It’s just his body language. If he was on a basketball court, he’d be called smooth.”

You want to rip him for not diving.

“He’s our rock, more consistent than me, more valuable than me,” Darin Erstad says. “So he doesn’t dive for fly balls? So what? How many games does he play?”

You want to remind him that he could be the biggest star in baseball if only he attacked the game instead of caressing it.

“There’s no excuse for not breaking hard out of the box,” Manager Mike Scioscia said. “But it happens so seldom, Garret is not defined by that. He is defined by everything else he does.”

This is going to be harder than you thought.

Anderson, greeting you with a surprisingly warm smile, knows it.

“Interesting,” he says. “I used to be called lazy. Now that we win a World Series, I’m called graceful.”

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Interesting, indeed, about that championship ring glare.

Sometimes it illuminates. Other times it blinds.

In Garret Anderson’s case, it does both.

The Angel title, capped by Anderson’s game-winning, three-run double in Game 7 of the World Series, confirmed that he should be considered among the best in the game.

But his lack of perceived hustle on a couple of postseason occasions confirmed why that consideration is often withheld.

His teammates gave him the Gene Autry Trophy for the third time in four years, proclaiming him the MVP on a team of MVPs, toughest guy in a tough crowd.

But at least once during the playoffs, a teammate confronted him in the clubhouse about not running out a grounder.

“Let me tell you something -- nobody in this game runs to first base hard every time,” Anderson says. “If people want to pick on me for that, fine. I’ll probably have that label me for my whole career.

“But I do not cheat my teammates. I’m there every day for them. And that’s what counts.”

In an argument that has been raging since Anderson arrived in Orange County eight years ago, shouldn’t that be the final rebuttal?

If baseball’s most beloved, hard-working team can see through the clutter to embrace this guy, why can’t the rest of us?

If it were only that simple.

A Los Angeles kid, playing for a Los Angeles team, Anderson should have spent the winter buried in endorsement opportunities.

Instead, there were none.

Part of the reason is many still don’t consider Anaheim part of the Los Angeles market, even while its baseball team was being celebrated from San Clemente to Santa Barbara.

“If we had been the Dodgers winning the World Series, it would have been a whole different thing, without a doubt,” Anderson says.

Another reason, perhaps, is that marketers want their baseball stars -- like their quarterbacks -- to be light-skinned.

“I will not comment on that,” says Anderson, one of only two African Americans on the Angels’ postseason roster. “But I will say it’s interesting.”

The biggest reason, though, is probably that marketers also want their baseball stars to get dirty.

Running down a ball at the outfield fence won’t get you on ESPN -- you need to run into that fence.

Stretching a single into a double won’t get your picture in the newspaper -- unless you complete the trip with a head-first slide and a fist pump.

“I don’t know how you can play every day, yet not play hard every day,” Anderson protests. “My style doesn’t make everybody happy. But it’s my style, and it works for me.”

The record books support that, even if perception does not.

Anderson has played in more games since the start of 1997 than every other major leaguer but Rafael Palmeiro, who mostly stands around as a first baseman and designated hitter.

Anderson has more hits since 1996 than everyone but Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez.

It has been four years since he finished with fewer than 28 home runs or 117 RBIs. By late summer he will probably replace Brian Downing as the Angels’ all-time hit leader.

Yet tell that to those many fans who were howling in anger when Anderson failed to run hard last October on a grounder that was bobbled by New York Yankee Alfonso Soriano.

And tell that to those who cheered in shock when he made a diving catch against the Minnesota Twins.

“But, see, that’s what I’m talking about,” Anderson says. “I never should have had to dive for that ball. I got a bad jump. I study hitters. I have an idea of where the ball is going. I don’t dive because I don’t have to.”

His teammates support this notion, saying that he is one of the smartest players in baseball who makes it look easy through hard work.

“He doesn’t dive for balls because he gets there quicker than most guys,” Erstad says.

Teammates say that his understated style, while it probably wouldn’t play so well on the laid-back Dodgers, works well in a clubhouse full of high school energy.

“We have so many emotional guys on this team, Garret is a calming force,” Salmon says. “He’s criticized for a lack of emotion, but I think it’s good.”

With Garret Anderson, even after a 30-minute conversation on a bright spring morning, it’s hard to know what to think.

He looks foreboding from afar but is pleasant and engaging up close.

He is quiet when talking about baseball, but just wait until you get him started talking about his Tustin-based family.

“That’s why I don’t do the personal appearances, because I want to be with my kids while they still want to be with me,” he says of his three young children. “During the winter, I give my wife off and play Mr. Mom. That’s who I really am.”

He makes lunches, reads at school, tucks into beds, enjoys three months when he is known for his hustle.

“I want my kids to know I was there,” he says.

In what may surprise Angel fans, he also wants them to know he was there.

When he was moved from center field to left field two seasons ago -- a switch he hated -- he barely complained because he didn’t want to disrupt the team.

And now that he has only two years left on his contract and could talk about doing a new deal this summer so he is not a lame duck next year? Forget it.

“I love it when I hear about guys wanting extensions before their old deal is done, guys always worried about not getting paid,” he says. “That is so much ego. Why worry about it until you need to? I’m guaranteed money through next year. I owe it to management to play through that year without complaining about it.”

So sometimes he forgets to run hard to first base. But he never forgets to show up. And sometimes he won’t run through a wall. But he continually plays through every season.

He could be a great salesman for the sport, but some people don’t buy him. He could be a household name, but he won’t leave his own household.

What, then, to think of Garret Anderson?

“We are not the Angels without him,” Erstad says, and maybe that is enough.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.

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Elite Effort

*--* A look at Garret Anderson’s nine-year career, spent all with the Angels: Year AB R H HR RBI AVG 1994 13 0 5 0 1 385 1995 374 50 120 16 69 321 1996 607 79 173 12 72 285 1997 624 76 189 8 92 303 1998 622 62 183 15 79 294 1999 620 88 188 21 80 303 2000 647 92 185 35 117 286 2001 672 83 194 28 123 289 2002 638 93 195 29 123 306 Totals 4,817 623 1,432 164 756 297

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